


A Jolly Christmas From Frank Sinatra

by AustinB



Series: Stucky Wonderland [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Christmas Party, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Tony is an ostentatious bastard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 20:43:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5347913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AustinB/pseuds/AustinB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He thinks the fireworks are just in his head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Jolly Christmas From Frank Sinatra

Tony's floor is oozing Christmas cheer, but in an aggressive sort of way that makes Steve think it was forcibly imposed. There are strings of multicolored lights strung haphazardly along every straight edge; walls, tables, railings, countertops. The house lights are low and it casts a pink and yellow glow on everyone's smiling faces.

A Sinatra Christmas album is playing on the speakers, because it's warm and cheerful and Tony thought it would make the octogenarians happy. He was right.

Tony is gaily mixing everyone drinks, wearing his usual T-shirt over a long-sleeved shirt, except he's also wearing a plastic headband with a sprig of mistletoe hanging 6" above it. He refuses to speak to anyone until they kiss him. Steve had gotten by with giving him a peck on the forehead so he could ask him for a whiskey sour, but Thor had planted one right on his lips without prompting that left the billionaire looking a little dazed, and had the room in a raucous uproar.

Bucky is sitting at the bar, where he'd planted himself upon entering, and hasn't moved. When Tony demanded a kiss from him, he just shot him a level glare and the subject magically changed. 

"I met him once, y'know," Bucky says suddenly, when there's a lull in conversation on that side of the room. "Ole Blue Eyes."

"You did not," Tony shoots back, scandalized like Bucky just committed the worst form of blasphemy. Steve, tucked in the corner listening to Bruce and Jane, rolls his eyes and moves to the bar. He hasn't heard this story since 1945, and it always was one of his favorites. The fact that Bucky even remembers it makes him glow with happiness and pride.

"I did," he nods sagely. "Me and Timmy what's-his-bucket," a pained expression creases his brows and he snaps twice and points at Steve. "What was his name?" Steve looks at the ceiling for a moment.

"Bloom."

Bucky snaps again. "Timmy Bloom." He turns back to Tony and Rhodey.

"We called him Flowers." Steve mouths the words as Bucky says them. Only Pepper notices, and she stifles a snort behind her hand that she passes off as a cough. "So me and 'ole Flowers were going down to this bodega on 26th when we see a black Lincoln pull up. The man himself steps out and goes into the store we were headed to. Now, this was 1942, he was just startin' to climb the charts, but Timmy was from Jersey, and everybody from Jersey knew Sinatra."

The familiar words make the Brooklyn thick in his voice, and the obligatory decorations are throwing a hazy, nostalgic light on the flash of his smile. Steve has to swallow past a lump in his throat that he wills away.

"So we follow 'im in and pretend to look at the papers. Timmy starts gettin' spooked, little weenie that he was, and he backs up into a rack 'a postcards, sends 'em scatterin' all over the floor. Sinatra's at the counter, payin' for a pack 'a smokes, and he turns and looks straight at me, and he says, "Heya fellas," just like he knows us. Then he walks right out."

"Where were you, Steve?" Rhodey asks, because everyone knows he and Bucky had always been joined at the hip. Couldn't trip over one without tripping over the other.

"Laid up," Bucky answers. "The flu or somethin', fever just broke, I was goin' down to get the mook a pack 'a gum." 

Bucky's looking at him, smiling fondly and something in Steve's expression as he stares back makes Tony clear his throat.

"The details are a nice touch, but I still don't believe you."

The party is merry. It's a welcome reprieve from the constant string of missions they've been on, even if the down-time seems a little bit like strange. Steve feels half naked without his shield these days. 

A few hours later Steve turns to say something to Bucky, only to find him gone. His eyes flick to the room's dark corners, but Bucky's not in any of them, so Steve heads out to the balcony. It's frigid, but Bucky's standing at the railing, arms crossed over it casually, looking out over the colorful points of light. 

"I didn't know you remembered that, about Sinatra," Steve says, mimicking Bucky's position. He leaves a good foot and a half between them, because even though Bucky climbs into bed with him twice a week, when memories resurface in the middle of the night, it doesn't change anything when they're both awake and lucid.

"I don't actually remember meeting him," Bucky admits sheepishly. "I just remember telling the story."

"That's because you _didn't_ actually meet him," Steve insists in a long-suffering tone. Bucky just grins, and they look back out at the city. Bucky can go hours without shifting a muscle, but he's shuffling on his feet, and when Steve looks over at him again, he's pressed up against his left side. Bucky's still looking straight ahead, but he gently tips his head against Steve's shoulder. 

Steve stiffens, when all he wants to do is wrap his arms around Bucky's shoulders. He's wanted it for so long, and spent so much energy keeping himself from showing it, that it's muscle memory to laugh it off, lean away.

Bucky is undeterred. He turns to face Steve, his head sliding in so his ear is pressed against Steve's collarbone, and snakes his arms around Steve's waist. Steve removes his hands from his pockets and holds them awkwardly in the air.

"Bucky."

"Hm?" The hum sounds less of acknowledgement and more of a sigh.

"Whatcha doin'?"

"Relax, I'm not gonna bite ya."

The nostalgia of hearing his favorite tall-tale and the familiarity of having Bucky pressed up against him makes his brain short circuit. Without even thinking, habitual, teasing words roll off his tongue.

"I wouldn't mind if you did."

He stiffens and Bucky lifts his head off Steve's chest. Steve stares resolutely out into the night and for one long, horrible moment he thinks he's ruined everything, made it weird; this casual intimacy, the closeness they'd cultivated after so long apart. But Bucky takes a look at his mortified expression and laughs. When he leans his head back into the crook of Steve's neck, he murmurs, "That can be arranged."

Steve chuckles nervously and lets his hands rest on Bucky's back. After a few minutes, he relaxes into the embrace. It's a luxury he'd never have dreamed of, being able to hold Bucky close to him like this, and he soaks it up.

When it's ten seconds to midnight, Thor starts counting down. None of them have the heart to tell him he's got the wrong holiday, so they join in. Bucky lifts his head and glances over Steve's shoulder at the party going on inside. 

"Oh. A countdown." He tips his chin up to Steve. "Does that mean there has to be a kiss at the end?"

It's seventy years too late but Steve realizes this is always how it was gonna end up. Steve and Bucky. Bucky and Steve. To the end of the line.

He smiles, nods. "Them's the rules."

Thor's only at 3, but Steve dips to press his lips against Bucky's. They're soft, plump and warm and he thinks the fireworks are just in his head when Bucky licks at his lips and slides his tongue into his mouth, but realizes quickly that they're actually real.

Tony would. Ostentatious bastard.

That means the rest of the team is probably staring out the large plate-glass windows at the display going on outside, which now includes them.

Steve finds he couldn't care any less.

**Author's Note:**

> My Sinatra/Bucky timing may not work out exactly, but you'll suspend disbelief with me, yes?


End file.
